Tattoo
by CoriRedde
Summary: Edward realized, staring at his returned arm, that the appendage still belonged to her. And Winry always puts her name on things that are hers. Honestly, he really is a closet romantic. Based on a Winry's line from Chaper 6 of I Will Not Cry: The Empty Casket.


**THIS IS IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM BASED ON THE SONG BY JORDAN SPARKS! Just so you know. I just thought Ed would be sexy with a tattoo... but I don't think he'd put just anything on his body. And Winry is definitely not just anything. **

**Leave a review if you want to see more oneshots from me. This is one itself, and will not be continued.**

**The basis for this is a line Winry said in my fic I Will Not Cry. "He really is a closet romantic. He has my name tattooed on the inside of his arm."**

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Tattoo

A FullMetal Alchemist FanFiction

by CoriRedde

OneShot

_**Summary: **__Not a song-fic. Edward realized, staring at his returned arm, that the appendage still belonged to her. And Winry always puts her name on things that are hers. Honestly, he really is a closet romantic. Based on a line from my fic I Will Not Cry._

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Edward stares at the arm attached to his right shoulder. The appendage is once again flesh and blood; its atrophied state slowly being remedied the longer he stays and works odd jobs for Pinako. The old woman is a slave driver, and she is not object to admitting it when he calls her out on it. However, she makes him stew (his favorite thing to eat...it even has milk!) and gives him clothes and shelter, so he digresses.

Back to his arm. There's a mess of scars around his shoulder, old stitches fading from his mechanic removing the last of his ports. It still amazes him to look down and see tan flesh stretched over bone and muscle. After five years of looking down to a white glove and peeks of a metal wrist, he expects it to take him another few years before the novelty of his own blood circulating through his own arm wears off. He almost wishes it never would. If it doesn't, he can't forget all the hard-ships he and his brother went through, and he can't forget all the times he needed a tune up: he can't forget Winry. Edward scoffs internally at himself. There's no way he could possibly forget Winry.

He loves her.

There's a high probability he will always be impressed by her. She is enigmatic, a true beauty inside and out, she represents continuing on, and she is home. As her boyfriend, (how good does it sound to say that?) he admires her body. The soft curves of her hourglass shape, the long hair that tickles his stomach when he kisses her, the open sky of her eyes, and _hell, _when did he become such a _sap_? It's probably genetic. He blames Hohenheim, stupid old man dying at his wife's grave.

He looks at his arm again.

Even though it's no longer automail that the cute mechanic fussed over obsessively (his younger self had been convinced Winry wanted to see his arm and leg, not him. He wonders how one can be jealous of his own limbs), the arm, by sequence of events, still seemed to belong to her. After all, his left leg belongs to her still.

But as he thinks through it, he slowly stands and slides from his thinking place on the roof and rolls on the soft grass (he had worked hard on this lawn, the grass had better be damn cashmere!). He rises in that trance-like state he gets when reading alchemic texts. He places his left hand to his chin (a habit he can't seem to break. He had never liked putting his right there because he could feel the lifelessness of the metal through the thin material of his glove), and walks into the house. Each step he takes is quiet as his mind goes around and around, coming back to that same answer again and again.

If Winry gave him his right arm back, albeit a metal one, and allowed him an able body to join the military and research for the Philosopher's Stone and eventually, through twists and tears and heartbreak, bring him to the fight that restored his flesh arm, then, technically, she gave him his real arm back. If that happened by wearing her automail, then he didn't see how his restored arm couldn't be hers.

The door to Winry's workshop is open, an unusual occurrence in itself. Regardless of whether or not the young woman is actually present inside, the door seems to always remain closed. Ed pauses at the threshold of the room, taking a moment to admire the blonde haired girl sitting at her chair. The smooth curve of her stomach draws a line to the black band-_thing_ he can't convince her to give up; she has her hands buried in her hair, staring at a drawing while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He smirks half-heartedly at her frustrated aura. A small part of him wants to tease the grease-monkey for stumping herself. A larger part of him is scared of the damage she can do with a wrench (he likes his blood in his body, thanks very much).

Edward slips inside silently, leaning down to wrap his arms around Winry's shoulders. The girl startles slightly, hand instantly reaching for her wrench. Self-defense has Ed grabbing the offending hand and threading his fingers through hers and resting his chin on top of her head.

"It's me," he breathes. Winry hums, leaning back into his chest. He revels in the sensation of her fingers between his, her body heat against his arm.

"Why are you here?" The mechanic asks rather bluntly. She rubs a soothing circle on his bicep with the hand not tangled in his.

"Was thinking," he responds after a moment. He leans down further and drops his head to her shoulder. Leaning her cheek against his temple, Winry presses her lips to his temple for a moment. It's a rare gentle moment for them. The yelling and fighting and teasing is more natural for them. This almost feels like glass: beautiful and clear to the heart, but easily shattered.

"About?" The blonde prompts, turning her body inside his grasp to face him, their foreheads touching.

"My arm." He watches her eyes darken a bit, confusion bringing a little red to her face and a crinkle to her brow. _Gah,_ he tells his mind, _shut up._ Yet the ridiculous organ (the rational side of his mind tells him it's his brain and under his control, but what does science know anyway?) refuses to shut up about how cute his girlfriend really is.

Her lips part. "I, uh, i-if it's about Alphonse or alchemy I am here for you, o-ok?" Ed laughs then, dragging her from her seat to hug her properly. His laughter shakes the both of them.

"And just what is so funny, Edward?" Her face get red, the devil on her shoulder stabbing its pitchfork at him. The former FullMetal Alchemist is reminded of his first confession at her words. He hopes this announcement goes over just as well as that one did. He slips his hands along her jaw line, cradling her face gently, successfully calming her oncoming outburst.

"I was thinking that my arm is really your arm," he begins, "since, in a round-about sort-of way, you're the one who got it back to me." Winry raises and eyebrow, the set of her mouth speaking of disbelief.

"Sometimes Ed," she says slowly, "I just don't understand you." He kisses her then, a light, chaste, little press of lips.

They're both blushing when they separate. This togetherness is still weird for them, but it has rapidly become a drug that they can never get enough of.

"I'll be back late," Edward says, detangling their limbs and retreating out the door. Winry glares at him.

"Just where are you going?" But, as the former alchemist is apt to do, Edward is already out the door. He hears her frustrated growl and the crash of her throwing a wrench at the display of what would have been his latest automail arm if he still needed it. He restrains himself from grinning too broadly. He hasn't quite reached that stage of damning his reputation for his excessive happiness of being with Winry.

He sets his feet on a straight path toward town, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His destination is on the other side of town, but Resembool isn't all that big. He hopes to make it home by dinner...a late one. Ed hopes Winry doesn't set him a date with her wrench for his vagueness on time.

The other side of Resembool looks no different from the side closer to the Rockbell residence. The only difference is the people here are generally rougher than the other side of town. That's why he heads here, to the tough side of town. He's not worried about brawls (bitches goin' down, son!) and he doesn't care about reputation (the short dispute got settled when he and Alphonse reached that same one inch over their late father's height). Edward only cares about one shop here and what it will do for him.

The sign winking in an out of existence in front of him reads _Carl's Tats and Piercings Parlor. _Eh, the FullMetal Alchemist always did like saving that extra penny.

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When Edward opens the door to the Rockbell home, he is almost surprised to find Winry just sitting down at the table.

"Home!" He calls, kicking off his shoes and jacket. He enters the kitchen in time to grab the bread from Winry's hands and set it on the table for her. She blinks.

"Uh...good. I just finished dinner. I was working late." She smiles gently, spooning food onto her plate.

Ed is practically bouncing in his seat. "Yeah, that's fine. I was out late and all." He rubs his neck, carefully taking the spoon in his left hand to maneuver large portions onto his own plate. Winry laughs, poking his right arm and cracking some joke about him just eating out of the dish because he eats so much. She only barely notices his wince and experimentally pokes him again. Yep, he's wincing.

"What's wrong, Ed?"

The Xerxenian man coughs, whipping his head around so fast his ponytail fluttered. "Erm...nothing?" He coughs again. Winry shoots him a little glare.

"I'm not buying, Ed. I saw you jerk when I poked your arm." And the former alchemist, with his way with words, quickly shovels another mouthful of food into his mouth.

"No you didn't," he responds belatedly, words garbled by dinner. In response, Winry punches his right arm.

"Shit!" Edward drops his utensils, stumbling up and away from his abusive (but unfairly pretty) girlfriend. "What the hell was that for?" Winry merely shrugs, stabbing her broccoli with a little more than the required force.

"Oh, nothing. Just an experiment."

Ed glares. "For what?!" He watches the blonde mechanic slowly set down her fork and fold her napkin before setting it on the table. She stands and saunters toward the former state alchemist, pushing her chest right up against his.

"Edward," she threatens, holding up her wrench (and he knows he's fucked the moment that things shows up), "You have three seconds to tell me where you went and what's wrong with your arm." She deosn't add a 'so help me' or 'I swear I will'. She knows she won't need them.

Edward is only too quick to comply in theface of her wrench of fury. "I went to Carl's!" The following silence is...painful. Wiinry backs up slowly, dropping her wrench on the table. She plops into Ed's abandoned chair.

"Is this from...about earlier?" Edward takes the end seat at the table, keeping his eyes and hers locked. He nods solemnly.

"What did you get?" The golden-haired man shakes his head. He tells the mechanic that he won't tell her until the band-aid is ready to come off and she can see it for herself. Winry sighs her consent before returning to her seat. Dinner is finished in silence and goodnights said in the moonlight hall with quick kisses.

Edward can feel the anticipation rolling off his girlfriend in waves. He smirks.

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"Winry!" The girl comes running immediately at his shout, skidding to a halt in front of her boyfriend. Her eyes widen as he tugs his shirt over his head and slowly unwraps his arm. She wants to drool at the toned flesh bared before her, but the decoration coming into view on Ed's arm is surprisingly even more interesting.

It's the circle for human transmutation stretched out and surrounding his bicep that decorates Ed's arm. Winry touches it gently, poking at the detailed tattoo.

"That's not the best part, though." Edward laughs at the confused look she gives him in response to his words. He takes her hand in his before turning his arm over. Winry's eyes well up, a smile breaking across her happy face.

"E-Ed, you..."

There, written in permanent ink on tanned skin, is the one thing his philosophizing had concluded. The only reason he has his arm, the only one it will ever belong to.

_Winry._

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**And die of fluff overload. Toothpaste anyone? I need some. Hope you enjoyed. **

**Cori**


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